Feelings Never Told
by Lucifer Rosemaunt
Summary: ErikRaoul pre to slash. Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration. Warnings vary from chapter to chapter.
1. Track 1

Title: Feelings Never Told  
><span>#<span>: Track 01. Le Chemin  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
><span>Summary<span>: Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: slash  
><span>Word Count<span>: 401  
><span>Rating<span>: K+

A/N: Merry Christmas. There is a fanmix attached to this; go to my profile to download. You'll hopefully see it in my bio.  
><span>Story note<span>: This is supposed to be one of those challenge type fics where you listen to a song and within the time frame of the song you write a fic. So, it should be fast to complete, but who knows with me. Also, I say 'supposed' because I cheated this first one because it took like three times listening to the song to finish this little ficlet. In my defense, I had to look at the translation to the lyrics a couple of times just to get it. I'm sure I'll succeed in the next one (or at least I have 23 other times to attempt to succeed). After the song's done, the only editing I've done is spellcheck – even with the ones I cheated on.

o.o.o.o

Kyo - Le Chemin [French]

_We overcame the paths_

_We held the distance_

_And I hate you with all my body_

_But I love you_

_We overcame the paths_

_We suffered in silence_

_And I hate you with all my body_

_But I love you still_

Erik stared at the blonde as he spoke first with Christine, then the ballet corps, gradually making his way to the managers who were in a heated discussion with Monsieur Reyer about the most recent production. He was mulling over the unfamiliar reactions the viscount inspired within him lately. The familiar rancor was still present, as it had been since he first laid eyes upon him, but it simply wasn't the focal point of their interactions any longer.

Madame Giry waylaid Raoul, pulling him close in a way that brought Erik to his feet. She whispered something, monopolizing his time for long moments. It wasn't until she released him that Erik sat back down. He was certain no one had seen him in Box 5, but still scanned the stage to see if anyone were looking in his direction. He chided himself for his inattentiveness, and once he realized that he had lost sight of his patron, who was no longer on stage even though the managers were still present, cursed Madame Giry as well. Erik waited long moments for him to reappear once more and found himself disappointed when he didn't.

"Ghost?"

Erik wouldn't admit that he was startled, not having heard Raoul enter the box seat.

Raoul lingered by the curtain, clearly ready to bolt if something in their encounter went awry. Erik did have his Punjab lasso with him and Raoul was empty-handed. How entirely short-sighted of his patron; how entirely Raoul.

"How…?" he shifted where he stood.

More than his reactions had altered if the boy thought that he could be disturbed without repercussions. He unhurriedly got to his feet and turned to glare at Raoul. "Since when are you exempt from the rules of the opera house?" He pulled the lasso from his jacket and let it hang unobtrusively at his side. He knew Raoul had seen it by the brief glance given it.

Instead of cowering, Raoul simply grinned and some of the tension released from his shoulders.

"What?" Erik asked, taking a threatening step forward.

"I'm glad," Raoul replied seemingly non sequitur, but he did look it. Still, he stepped partially out of the box, curtains falling around his shoulders. "Madame Giry said you have been acting oddly." He shrugged and his grin became wider, "And, that I should check on you."

The Punjab lasso cut through the air, but Raoul had already escaped.

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Fic Review<span>: Remember, download the fanmix. :D The link's in my bio.


	2. Track 2

Title: Feelings Never Told  
><span>#<span>: Track 02. Bloom  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
>Summary<span>: Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: slash   
>Word Count<span>: 202  
><span>Rating<span>: K+

A/N: Remember, there is a fanmix attached to this; go to my profile to download.  
><span>Story note<span>: Damnit, three times again before I was able to finish this. :( I don't even know how people finish it during the song. I barely get one or two sentences going halfway through the first run before I finally figure out what the hell I want to write about.

o.o.o.o

The Paper Kites – Bloom

_Shall I write it in a letter?  
>Shall I try to get it down?<br>Oh, you fill my head with pieces  
>Of a song I can't get out.<em>

Erik ventured out into the city more often than he had before. His life had once revolved around the opera house, around one Christine Daae; having that small aspect altered, so too had his entire life. Surely, he spent much time within the opera house's walls, with its people and its drama.

Nights though, the nights were for himself alone. Most evenings, he frequented the cold, dark streets of Paris. Cloak wrapped around him, he was able to walk unhindered. The only beings awake were the rats and a drunkard or two depending on which street he walked.

When he was certain the whole world was sleeping, Erik walked an all-too-familiar pathway, to an all-too-familiar balcony. The tree just outside was convenient, but he would have found a way to climb up regardless.

And there, he could watch, just sit on the balcony's ledge. The curtains were always parted, offering him an unobstructed view to the bed. The vicomte liked to wake with the morning, rise with the sun. Erik liked to watch him in the small hours before then, watch him curl up against his pillow, all the while trying to convince himself that this was enough. This was close enough.

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Fic Review<span>: Darn, and it's even much shorter than the previous one. Admittedly though, doing this is making me want to finish one of my longer ones, so there's that added benefit. :D


	3. Track 3

Title: Feelings Never Told  
><span>#<span>: Track 03. Wait  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
>Summary<span>: Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: slash   
>Word Count<span>: 296  
><span>Rating<span>: K+

A/N: Remember, there is a fanmix attached to this; go to my profile to download. btw, can I just say that apparently most of these songs make me think angsty angsty thoughts of moments where either of them dies or they're pushing the other one away? Really though, that's apparently my headcanon of them.  
><span>Story note<span>: Really, four times this time around? :( I'm supposed to be getting better not failing harder at being able to write a ficlet in one go of the song. It's not even that long! I think I need longer songs. ;3

o.o.o.o

Alexi Murdoch – Wait

_And If I stumble, and if I stall  
>And if I slip now, and if I should fall<br>And if I can't be, all that I could be  
>Will you? Will you wait for me?<em>

"Erik."

Raoul's voice was enough to stop him. There was a confidence in it that had once annoyed him; in fact, it still annoyed him. It had nothing to do with the fact that he had been trying to flee. In that count, he was annoyed at both Raoul and himself.

"You know not what you ask of me."

Raoul pressed his lips together. It was not quite a frown, but close to it – close enough for someone who smiled near constantly, whether it was fake or forced. Hands palms up, he shrugged. "That is a poor choice of words."

Erik sneered in response. It had been a poor choice, but now was not a time to be so perceptive nor so grounded in their past and history. That was exactly the reason why he had been trying to leave. He'd been trying to spare them both of what was certain to be a disaster.

"I can't be what you want me to be." He was annoyed to realize that he couldn't say he _didn't _want to be.

Raoul had the gall to respond, "I don't want you to be anything other than what you are."

"That is a lie." There were so many things that Raoul wished to change, that Erik, himself, wished to change as well; because as much as he had seen the acts he'd done – lying, stealing, killing – as necessary, he hadn't been able to stop once his life had been free from danger.

Silence was his response and Erik almost wanted another lie.

The younger man nodded once, eyes searching his own. He must've seen what he had been looking for because he finally took a step back, indicating that he would stop pursuing him. "I'm willing to wait for you."

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Fic Review<span>: Okay, Erik seems totally OOC here. I know, but I see this as the fic wherein Erik found himself pretending to be this better person for the sake of keeping Raoul with him and then realized what he was doing and knew it couldn't last forever. It's Erik wanting to change for Raoul's sake, but really for his own sake because he doesn't want to be the monster any longer – which is a facet of his character that is totally canon… I just didn't portray it so well in this ficlet.


	4. Track 4

Title: Feelings Never Told  
><span>#<span>: Track 04. You Were Made For Me  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
>Summary<span>: Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: slash   
>Word Count<span>: 361  
><span>Rating<span>: K+

A/N: Remember, there is a fanmix attached to this; go to my profile to download.  
><span>Story note<span>: I don't even want to say how long this took me to write. :(

o.o.o.o

Augustana - You were Made For Me

_It doesn't make your plans fall through  
>It doesn't make your dreams come true<br>It doesn't make your old ways new  
>It only means I love you.<em>

Erik stormed through the damp corridors. He hardly noticed the rats scurrying out of his way. Christine's lesson had just ended and upon parting, she had admitted, "You were made for each other." She had sounded equal parts happy for him and wistful when she'd said it. He had felt his own type of vindictive glee upon hearing that wistfulness, save for the fact that she was more jealous of what he had than actually simply desiring _him_.

However, the statement was hardly revelatory after the past two months of having survived dealing with the vicomte, his moods, and their penchant for turning disputes into physical altercations. Yet, her simple words had struck a chord, rather a discord with him.

His life was supposed to have changed. He had finally found someone who would not shy away from his face, who would not shy away from the monster that he was. He had found someone with whom he could share his life, but here he was still wallowing in darkness, cast into the deepest pits of hell and shunned by all. He had not become less the ghost the opera house had molded him to be.

Entering his home, he whipped his cloak off, extinguishing the flames of every candle on the nearest candelabrum. He muttered under his breath of the injustice and speciousness of hope.

"Erik?" Raoul appeared from further within his abode. He glanced at the candelabrum before approaching him cautiously. "Did the managers…?" He let the question hang, already knowing that he had asked the wrong question when Erik walked away from him.

Back turned to the blond, Erik struggled to calm himself. He refused to let Christine's words be the cause of another argument – not when they'd lasted two entire days free of it.

He started slightly when hands snaked across his sides and a warm body settled against his back. Raoul hugged him from behind, hands clasping on his stomach tightly. His chin dug into his shoulder blade, but Erik felt himself relaxing regardless. He placed his hands atop Raoul's and let himself bask in what may not be sunlight but was something entirely more precious.

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Fic Review<span>: I think this one's closer to IC. The ending also just makes me grin stupidly at them.


	5. Track 5

Title: Feelings Never Told  
><span>#<span>: Track 05. Winter Song  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
>Summary<span>: Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: slash   
>Word Count<span>: 429  
><span>Rating<span>: K+

A/N: Remember, there is a fanmix attached to this; go to my profile to download.  
><span>Story note<span>: It's like I can't convince my brain that this is a speed exercise. :(

o.o.o.o

Sara Bareilles & Ingrid Michaelson - Winter Song

_I'll be your harvester of light  
>and send it out tonight<br>so we can start again._

He could count all the stars on nights like this. Once the winter storms moved on and the snow settled on the ground, the skies were clearest. Stars always looked brighter on winter nights, as though the cold made them burn all the brighter. Each brilliant spark competed to be the brightest, to be the first for children to wish upon.

He tried to count all the stars on nights like this, to count all the wishes he could be making: for the sick and poor; for his brother and sisters; for the opera house and its occupants; for travelers like him who dreamt of finding a home, to be curled before a fire, under a blanket, within someone's arms. He wished the hardest for the last wish to come true.

The night was dead. Only moon and star light were their guides. His coachman pressed the horses forward, the carriage jostling. Its wheels sprayed a sheer cloud of snow and the horses hooves sunk past the crisp surface and dug into frozen earth. Through forest and village, they travelled deep into the night. Animal and man both appeared to be hibernating to stave off the frightful chill. Even Paris slept when they finally arrived. It was hard to see the stars from a window.

He had sent word before he left, paid much for their haste to announce his arrival, but as Raoul jumped out of the carriage, quickly ducking further into his coat and scarf, the opera house seemed empty as much as everything else. He waved the man off when he offered to take him elsewhere.

Raoul tilted his head back, eyes fixed on the brightest star he could find and listened as the carriage departed. He exhaled slowly, his breath making the only cloud in the sky. It had been six months since he'd last been here. It had been five since he decided he wouldn't return. The letters had stopped two months ago. The rumours, one.

He hadn't known why it had been imperative to come. He had once been certain that it had been just as imperative to leave Paris, but that certainty had long since faded.

Raoul rolled his head down, stretching out sore neck muscles from the long carriage ride.

The lantern was the first thing he saw, a star fallen from the heaven to pierce the dark night. It was only after that he noticed the arm that held the lantern, the cloak, the hat, the mask. He saw the man last before he could convince himself to move forward.

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Fic Review<span>: In my head, the very fluffy part of it, I imagine Raoul running to Erik for a hug. XD


	6. Track 6

Title: Feelings Never Told  
><span>#<span>: Track 06. Die Alone  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
>Summary: Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration.<br>Warning(s): slash  
>Word Count: 584<br>Rating: K+

A/N: Remember, there is a fanmix attached to this; go to my profile to download.  
><span>Story note<span>: Seriously. This is taking much longer than it should. Speed is not my forte.

o.o.o.o

Ingrid Michaelson - Die Alone

_I never thought I could love anyone but myself.  
>Now, I know I can't love anyone but you.<br>You make me think that maybe I won't die alone.  
>Maybe I won't die alone.<em>

"It's in your soul that the true distortion lies, Erik."

Christine's voice echoes in his head every day as he wakes, as he eats – when he finds the will to do so any longer –, as he composes – when he sits before the organ and no notes come to him –, and as he sleeps. In his sleep is the worst. She continues speaking then, continues to berate him, tear him limb from limb with her words until there is nothing left but his heart hanging grotesquely below his shredded and bloody shoulders.

"Your love, your devotion to me has always been selfish."

Though she simply stares at him, from a distance even, it feels as though she is gripping his heart. Twisting it, tugging it, trying to tear that too from him.

"You coveted, took, stole. You _tried _to steal my heart from myself."

Her grip tightens and she pulls, but her eyes are wounded. They plead with him to understand that he is hurting _her_.

"You love like you hate."

He wants to despise her in these dreams. He wants to despise her when he wakes and sees her with that boy, but she is laughing. She smiles and oftentimes, she looks off in the distance and pleads with him to understand.

"Destructively."

His heart is never torn from him in his dream. He is certain of that. As much as it strains and aches, his heart remains firmly attached to him still. He can feel it beat.

"Do you still love me?"

She asks him this and he cannot answer. His mouth moves. He hears his own gasps and chokes. He wants to say that he would love her longer than the boy had. He would have already married her. But, he sees the vicomte's face in those moments – sees his face much too often nowadays –, the smile that's faded though still bright, the vibrant blue eyes searching for what's not there, always searching. He sees the touches that had once lingered, now abruptly ending, the distraction in each of them, and the distance that's growing.

"I let you go," he says instead.

She smiles at him then. His heart still aches, even as it no longer strains towards her. He knows that she is right. His love would destroy her. He would only love himself.

"I'm letting you go, too."

It is the first time she says this to him, and when he searches for her, she is simply gone. He feels a hand on his forehead and one on his throat. He braces himself for the pain to continue, for whoever it is to take what else is left of him in this state.

"Erik."

It is not her voice he hears.

"Erik."

But it is kind and he lets himself relax, waits for whatever part of him that should be destroyed next to be torn from him. But the hand cradles his head, lifts it slightly, and he drinks the water offered him. It is then that Erik realizes he no longer dreams.

"He's feverish," the same voice calls. The words not meant for him, but Erik knows somehow that they are about him.

"Do not die," the words are whispered fiercely against his cheek, desperation that seems out of place but somehow isn't. Not when there's a kinship, one that's been intensifying. "You do not need to die for her."

He recognizes whose voice it is and wonders briefly if he could destroy them both instead.

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Fic Review<span>: I don't even know how to wrap this one up. All I know is that I've listened to this song too many damn times. XD I kind of cheated a little though and edited more than I should have. I tried to give intimations that maybe the breakup between Raoul and Christine was more amicable than Erik gives them credit for.

I swear the next one has to be under three song lengths.


	7. Track 7

Title: Feelings Never Told  
><span>#<span>: Track 07. Sleepwalker  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
>Summary<span>: Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: slash   
>Word Count<span>: 434  
><span>Rating<span>: K+

A/N: Remember, there is a fanmix attached to this; go to my profile to download.  
><span>Story note<span>: I suck at this challenge. *facepalm. I'm just a slow writer. I need a long build-up.

o.o.o.o

Adam Lambert – Sleepwalker

_It's like I can't even feel  
>After the way you touched me<br>I'm not asleep, but I'm not awake  
>After the way you loved me.<em>

Everything was wrong. The sky was beneath him, the earth above him and he was certain that he had fallen from grace. Fallen, buried himself beneath impossibilities.

He stumbled out of Christine's room, bracing himself on the door before taking faltering steps forward. His shoulder slammed against the wall, luckily avoiding a head-first collision instead, and still, he moved onward. The pain was negligible, a distant pinprick in the foggy numbness enveloping him. The destination mattered little because certainly, he must be dreaming. The carpet blurred, merged with wall and Raoul simply ran once he was steady on his feet. He distantly knew he was searching for the way home. He needed to escape the opera house and find safety where the past few hours, where life would once again make sense.

He ended up on the rooftop. Dropping to his knees, he stared blankly at the statues.

Everything was wrong. That was the second time in his life that he had fully believed those words. The first time had occurred when a ghost kissed him, when a ghost had approached him in all vulnerability, in all gentleness and offered him the world. The world as it had been since his birth, since before his birth unto the beginning of time, had ended in that moment, collapsing upon itself. And, just as quickly, it had been rebuilt. A new world had been born between one disbelieving breath and the next.

He had denied it at first. He had survived in a dead world that he'd refused to admit was gone, but stale air and decaying desire had slowly altered his perceptions. He had succumbed to a touch that had been both tentative and forceful. He'd succumbed to a man that knew only how to take and take and take so that what was left behind seemed so much like a gift. But there had been love. He knew there had been, in his words perhaps, but his hands, fingers against skin, lips upon lips, upon neck, upon hip, upon…

Everything had been wrong, but at the time, it had been so devastatingly right.

And now, that new world that he'd momentarily thrived within had been proven to be nothing more than a façade, walls and mirrors thrown up to blind him. That world had been lies compounded upon hatred. It had been no more than a dream, a nightmare in which he'd willingly slept.

Erik loved Christine, had always loved her. He had proven that tonight.

But even now, his touch burned in Raoul's memory; the way Erik loved her told the selfsame lie.

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Fic Review<span>: Ah, this is one of those fics where Erik seduces Raoul in order to get Christine. Despite being so trite, I really want to write one. I actually know in what context I would like to write it in as well.


	8. Track 8

Title: Feelings Never Told  
><span>#<span>: Track 08. Nightminds  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
>Summary<span>: Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: slash   
>Word Count<span>: 977  
><span>Rating<span>: K+

A/N: Remember, there is a fanmix attached to this; go to my profile to download.  
><span>Story note<span>: Maybe the challenge should be to come up with an idea in the duration of one song length because this one got away from me. Stupid plotbunny attacking me. :(

o.o.o.o

Missy Higgins – Nightminds

_But I will learn to breathe this ugliness you see,  
>so we can both be there and we can both share the dark.<br>And in our honesty, together we will rise out of our nightminds  
>and into the light at the end of the night.<em>

"It is quite poetic though, isn't it?" Raoul asked him. The blond was somewhere hovering over his right shoulder, as he was wont to do nowadays.

Erik decided to attempt to ignore him again and focused more on the rowing of the boat. He never really lasted very long because the vicomte was persistent if he was nothing else. The sound of the boat gliding through the water was quiet in comparison to that confident voice, although it never seemed to echo in the cavernous area of his home.

"That you managed to destroy everyone and everything else when you were really just trying to destroy yourself, and here you still are."

And the things he said were usually outright taunts said in order to induce a reaction from him.

"Do you speak only to hear your own voice?" Erik retorted.

Raoul was very good at inducing reactions. "If you recall" – Erik didn't need to turn to see him grin – "you are the only one left to hear it. The others, what was left of them of course, already left."

"Leave me be already." Erik ran the boat ashore, rock scraping the bottom. It was careless, but it no longer mattered. He would languish here for eternity if necessary. There was no more reason to leave, to live.

Raoul jumped out after him. "You do not have to be here."

Erik laughed harshly. "This," he motioned to his unmasked face, "says otherwise." But, Raoul did not react. He looked rather unimpressed really, and Erik considered that entirely unfair that after so long he had found someone to look upon him unmoved now.

Instead of leaving, the younger man did quite the opposite and found the location the organ used to be before dropping to the ground to sit. "Then, we can both share the dark."

Erik walked away from him, but even with his back turned, he was all too aware of his continued presence. "Were you sent to punish me?"

"The fight is over, Erik," Raoul said, leaning back on his hands as he stared out towards the lake. "It's been months since…" he hesitated. "It's been months, near a year and the others have moved on. Why can you not?"

"Monsters such as I," Erik explained. It would be the first time he tried to enlighten him, and he only did so now hoping that Raoul would finally leave him alone once he understood. "The ugliness here within me dictates where I should be."

"Here?" Raoul looked around and grinned when he added, "The ugliness dictates you to be with me?" Although far beneath the opera house, several floors below where the cache of dynamite had been, the explosion had managed to scorch the walls here, too. It had torn through carpet, flesh, and stone. "I feel a bit insulted." He laughed then and the sound filled the area more than Erik's shouts and music had ever managed. "For one so brilliant, you are incredibly slow."

"What?" Erik turned to look at him. Raoul looked better than he had in all the time that they known each other. His hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. His linen shirt was a pristine white despite the journey through ash and debris it took to arrive here and his trousers were perfectly pressed. There was no tension in his frame as he gazed fondly at him.

"You needn't be here. So, why stay in the darkness?" He motioned upward. "Why stay when there's so much more waiting for you?"

Erik didn't know the answer to that beyond what he'd said to Raoul, but it seemed that didn't matter because Raoul _was _there with him. He had been with him for a while now.

"I am a poor guide to navigate through this darkness." Raoul stood up and dusted off his pants though they had remained clean. He tilted his head slightly. "But between us, I am certain that we will see the light soon enough."

He was going to decline.

"You've already ruined your boat," Raoul added. "Consider me the better alternative to what is here."

Erik deserved nothing more than this cellar.

"Or we'll stay here longer and listen to me ponder just how poetic everything is." Raoul sat back down, rather ungracefully really. He pouted and leaned his chin against his hand.

Erik stared at him longer, stared at the only alternative that had ever looked so tempting. "Where are we going?"

The pout was quickly replaced with a wide grin and Raoul surged to his feet. "I can't say, but you'll love it." Before Erik could change his mind, Raoul grabbed his hand and began to drag him forward. Raoul laughed once more, a sound of pure joy. "It's here somewhere."

"It is poetic though," Erik muttered to himself.

"I saw it before." Raoul glanced over his shoulder distractedly, having heard him regardless. "It's surely here."

Erik tried to look past him to see where he was going, but he couldn't seem to move faster and his home had never felt so unfamiliar to him. He focused on his thoughts instead. "That you were the one sent to come back for me."

Since Raoul had not paused his search, Erik barely caught the look of confusion that crossed his features, but Raoul stopped muttering to himself. "There is no coming _back_, Erik. I refused to leave when I saw you stay."

Erik was left speechless at that. It had been months and the pain of staying, the depression of denying what was natural had nearly torn him apart. Before he could speak, Raoul tugged him forward once more. "Ah-ha!" he exclaimed, and instinctively Erik tightened his grip on him, unwilling to be left behind. And before he could ask if they'd be together afterwards, they were both engulfed in a brilliant, white light.

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Fic Review<span>: In which book!canon Erik blows them all up and ghost!Erik decides to literally haunt the cellars of the opera house, but ghost!Raoul convinces him otherwise. Damnit, this was actually my favorite so far. XD Despite being the longest to write.


	9. Track 9

Title: Feelings Never Told  
><span>#<span>: Track 09. A Thousand Years  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
>Summary<span>: Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: slash   
>Word Count<span>: 424  
><span>Rating<span>: K+

A/N: Remember, there is a fanmix attached to this; go to my profile to download.  
><span>Story note<span>: I'm kind of getting back on track with this. It only took me five-ish song repeats. (That's sad how that's an 'only' kind of statement when I'd done better to start with.)

o.o.o.o

Christina Perri - A Thousand Years

_I have died everyday waiting for you  
>Darling don't be afraid, I have loved you<br>For a thousand years  
>I'll love you for a thousand more<em>

There was a fortuneteller at the carnival where he was held captive. At the start of every new year, in a silent procession, all the other gypsies went to visit her, awaiting the prediction for their upcoming year. Some would celebrate upon leaving; others began to save what little funds they had. None disregarded her insights.

Erik had seen this procession twice and on the third year he was dragged, gagged and bound, to her tent where he was left alone in the dark, dank tent. The air was heavy with incense and the stench of human bodies too accustomed to hours under the sun to care to wash.

"Welcome."

Erik was forced to wiggle in order to turn onto his side into a position that didn't put undue pressure on his arms. The fortuneteller was younger than he had expected, not the old crone aged with wisdom. She was young, certainly not older than he, barely into the second decade of her life, but her eyes were too shrewd, too knowing as she gazed placidly at him. Her body was hidden beneath layers upon layers of clothing, so very unlike how the other gypsies dressed, and Erik knew immediately she hid something beneath them. A colorful scarf of reds and oranges was wrapped around her head, though in the dimness of the tent, it looked a deep purple, a royal purple.

She reached a hand towards him. He snarled in response and threw himself further away.

She continued undeterred by his reaction, "Your future, unfortunate one, has not changed since you have arrived."

He swallowed a scathing remark, unwilling to react.

Lighting more incense, she made graceful arcs in the air between them with them, writing in the air with it. The smoke tendrils began to coalesce and create an image at which he squinted. There before his eyes was undoubtedly a silhouette of an angel, its wings spread out wide, but quickly, those wings dissipated in a flurry of feathers, leaving a mere human. He started when it turned towards him briefly, one hand desperately reaching out to him.

The image scattered with a single breath of the fortuneteller, and Erik realized that he had been leaning forward to it.

"You will desire many and much," she said. He did not feel the usual anger at the obvious pity in her voice, only a numb resignation. "But you have and will only ever love one in the past life, this present, and the next, one you are bound to fail to recognize."

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Fic Review<span>: Aww, poor Erik. Why plant such bitter seeds of hope when she knows he won't realize who he should love?


	10. Track 10

Title: Feelings Never Told  
><span>#<span>: Track 10. This Unavoidable Thing Between Us  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
>Summary<span>: Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: slash   
>Word Count<span>: 505  
><span>Rating<span>: K+

A/N: Remember, there is a fanmix attached to this; go to my profile to download.  
><span>Story note<span>: Five-ish once more. Although it should technically be six, but I didn't count the first time I listened to it. Not a single word/plotbunny came at all. :( It was disappointing.

o.o.o.o

Evermore - This Unavoidable Thing Between Us

_When we walk away, we only grow more near  
>When we turn away, it all becomes so clear<br>This unavoidable thing, joining us._

Erik lounged on the settee, nursing the brandy glass in his hand. The Persian had outdone himself this time with such vintage.

"I am rather surprised," the man hesitantly began and Erik knew he should have expected the once inspector to have ulterior motives. The man had insatiable curiosity, especially when it came to Erik's business. "Why do you not just kill him?"

Erik did not need clarification of whom he was speaking. Raoul de Chagny had been the focus of the Persian's attentions for quite some time now, though he avoided making it known. Erik knew though. The man was not wrong in his observation; it would be a simple thing to kill the vicomte. Christine's pretend with him had gone on long enough. The boy knew too much and suspected more.

"Not that I am encouraging you," the Persian quickly added, taking a healthy gulp from his own glass.

Raoul believed true enough that Christine would be his bride and not Erik's as the ghost had long since planned. He also believed in the ghost however, truly believed in him as both man and myth. It was easy to see every time he arrived at the opera house. He would look up towards the roof before entering, up towards the rafters, always up. It was in vain since such a vantage point would be useless with the distance, and the young man never thought to look behind the next carriage or several meters hidden within the shadows of the opera house's own pillars. He never thought to simply look ahead.

"You have been observing him quite closely lately."

Erik did not reply that the Persian had apparently been observing _him _quite closely as well because it sounded much like an evasion in his mind. There was nothing to deny. He had needed to observe him and it wasn't difficult. The boy was repetitive; he lived out of habit.

He would enter the building, weaving his way skillfully through the crowd. He would make polite conversation along the way, ever the polite patron. Erik easily shadowed him, just as versed in the trite words exchanged. The words could just as easily come from him instead. Each step was familiar, each breath synchronized.

"It is not necessary." Erik sipped his brandy then stared at it contemplatively as he swirled it in his glass. "He is a mere child, their love comparable; though they know it not."

And it was beginning to show, too. The vicomte had once visited Christine before every performance. Now, he only sat alone in his box, patiently waiting for the curtains to rise, for the attendants of the night's performance as they milled into the auditorium. The vast disparity between Raoul in these moments and the patron who greeted the others so vibrantly was captivating, and Erik knew the subdued intensity, the wandering thoughts, and those steady breaths just as intimately as everything else about him.

"Yes." the Persian poured himself another glass of brandy. "Love often changes without our realizing."

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Fic Review<span>: What's with book!canon and me right now?


	11. Track 11

Title: Feelings Never Told  
><span>#<span>: Track 11. Infra-Red  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
>Summary<span>: Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: slash   
>Word Count<span>: 359  
><span>Rating<span>: K+

A/N: Remember, there is a fanmix attached to this; go to my profile to download.  
><span>Story note<span>: Is five-ish the new magical number? It's not even that long. It just took a while for the movements to make any sense to me.

o.o.o.o

Placebo - Infra-Red

_There is no running that can hide you  
>'cause I can see in the dark.<br>I'm coming up on infra-red,  
>forget your running, I will find you. <em>

The opera house had become an unofficial infirmary in less than two hours. Chaos reigned within its walls while the managers stood back-to-back in the middle of their office. Firmin wielded a letter opener while Andre bandied his cane at an invisible foe.

"The ghost is mad," Andre whispered. He stared at the closed door while his partner watched the opposite wall. One had to take precautions against a ghost.

Firmin spat out, "He seeks to drive us to the poorhouse."

Andre bemoaned, "The chest wound on Carlotta."

"The sprained ankles amongst the ballet corps," Firmin shook his head, which startled Andre.

"The noose burns on our chorus' necks," Andre wailed.

Firmin gripped his letter opener tighter. "All the missing stagehands."

"And the decapitated managers," a sinister voice added.

Their heads whipped to the side, but the noose dropped around both their necks, slamming the backs of their heads together. Both dropped their weapons of choice, struggling to remove the rope biting into their skin if not cutting off their respiration.

"Where is he?" the ghost asked, and the opera ghost had never seemed more wraith than at this moment. His cloak whipped about him, the edges of which were left in the passageway that had once been a painting on their wall. A chill wind gripped their lungs tightly, though it could have very well been the noose they could not loosen. Their hearts seized beneath the similarly frigid glare directed at them.

"As of this evening, the Vicomte is no longer our patron," Firmin choked out. He turned, hoping to reduce the pressure on his Adam's apple; Andre, having the same thought, moved as well. The ghost merely tightened his hold on the rope and they had the misfortune to go from being back-to-back to cheek-to-cheek. It also left them uneasily staring at the ghost's unmoved, murderous expression.

Andre squeaked out, "His villa."

The ghost jerked the rope with all his might, throwing both managers forward onto their hands and knees. The painting shut with finality against their faces, and the managers were left pressed against the wall, the noose unyielding and firmly caught in the seam.

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Fic Review<span>: I definitely don't think I described that as well as I could have, but hopefully it works. This is the one where Raoul has enough of Erik's shenanigans and stops being the patron of the opera house. Erik's not too keen on that idea. Points if you got the movie reference with Carlotta's chest wound.


	12. Track 12

Title: Feelings Never Told  
><span>#<span>: Track 12. Unbroken  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
>Summary<span>: Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: slash   
>Word Count<span>: 252  
><span>Rating<span>: M

A/N: Remember, there is a fanmix attached to this; go to my profile to download.  
><span>Story note<span>: This is barely the song, although I do allude to it. And it took forever because… well, it's been a while.

o.o.o.o

Demi Lovato – Unbroken

_I'm gonna love you like I've never broken  
>I'm gonna say it like it's never been spoken<br>I'm gonna give it like it's never been taken  
>I'm gonna fall like I don't need saving.<em>

Raoul arched beneath his touch, gasping for breath.

"E-Erik," his breath hitched when the masked man palmed his inner thigh, pointedly ignoring more sensitive areas.

"Undress," Erik ordered and then continued littering whatever skin he could reach on Raoul's neck and chest with kisses. "Now." But mostly, he was touching, exploring, digging fingers into pliant flesh as though he _needed _to feel Raoul in this moment.

Raoul wanted to tell him to slow down, wanted to ask him what was wrong. They had barely done anything more than kissing in the past three months; even then, Raoul had always been the one to initiate such contact. Something had changed, and Erik refused to look him in the eyes – though the fact that he had practically torn Raoul's trousers from his legs had been a more telling factor. They were currently bunched at his ankles, his shoes effectively preventing him from freeing his legs.

Erik was still fully dressed, and though he wanted to change that, Raoul could only clutch onto his shoulders tighter, especially when Erik finally wrapped his hand around his erection. He hissed in pleasure. Raoul hadn't pleasured himself in the weeks since he'd begun to spend his nights with Erik. He hadn't found the time and now bemoaned the lack of privacy when he knew he would finish far sooner than he'd prefer.

"Please." Raoul slid his hands to the back of Erik's neck, pulling him up so that his next breathy _please _was swallowed by a messy kiss.

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Fic Review<span>: Darn, rating goes up now. I forget how scenes like this are difficult. :( They're also hard (though I'd wanted to avoid that word ;3).


	13. Track 13

Title: Feelings Never Told  
><span>#<span>: Track 13. Flawed Design (Remix)  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
>Summary<span>: Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: slash   
>Word Count<span>: 221  
><span>Rating<span>: K+

A/N: Remember, there is a fanmix attached to this; go to my profile to download.  
><span>Story note<span>: One and a half (three fourths?) times. (Getting closer.) But I'm almost certain I'm going to run out of ideas sooner than not.

o.o.o.o

Stabilo - Flawed Design (Remix)

_Then, when I got older  
>I began to lie to get exactly what I wanted<br>When I wanted it – And I wanted it  
>Now, I'm having trouble differentiating<br>Between what I want and what I need  
>To make me happy<em>

Since he'd been young, Raoul had habitually been unable to sleep. He had spent many a sleepless nights lying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling wondering when life would begin for him, when he would find his adventure. After reuniting with Christine, it had gotten worse. What once had been a twice or thrice a week occurrence was now a nightly condition.

After years of being unable to find another person to love, of trying and failing so many times with so many different types of people, he'd found his childhood sweetheart again. It _had_ to be excitement that kept him awake at night. His mind was cluttered with thoughts of the possibilities once again open to him, the hope of the future, simply the excitement of love. He'd never before felt both so alive and so tired at the same time.

Even when he'd learned of the ghost, it had only enhanced the thrill of love, the pleasure of proving one's devotion to his most beloved. He had been determined at first to meet the ghost, and when that had finally come to pass, anticipated meeting him again and again to prove his worthiness.

He'd long since learned how to get what he wanted, and he wanted Christine. Certainly love was wanting her as much as he did.

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Fic Review<span>: This one feels iffy. When I added the song, it had been mostly Erik's POV, but the plotbunny demanded Raoul's. I think it's so iffy because there are so many things to explore in it. It would have been better if I'd taken some of the things out and streamlined it a bit more. But then it would defeat the purpose of this challenge. But story-wise: in which Raoul loves fighting with Erik more than he loves loving Christine. XD


	14. Track 14

Title: Feelings Never Told  
><span>#<span>: Track 14. Tva av oss  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
>Summary<span>: Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: slash   
>Word Count<span>: 430  
><span>Rating<span>: K+

A/N: Remember, there is a fanmix attached to this; go to my profile to download.  
><span>Story note<span>: Two and a half. Darn. I was hoping I would actually make the one song quota.

o.o.o.o

X-models - Tva av oss [Swedish]

_ You probably wonder sometimes like I do  
>Is there someone else<br>Who can make you weak  
>But we're like a jigsaw puzzle<br>Each fitting with one piece_

Upon seeing the vicomte, Erik stopped hiding his presence. "Where is she?" He jumped down from the ledge upon which he'd been creeping.

"Where do you think she is?" Raoul shrugged.

Standing straighter, Erik stalked forward, hoping to loom over the blond. He stood as close as he was comfortable with, hoping to unnerve the younger man, but Raoul looked rather unimpressed. Neither of them dared to move further away in fear it would be a sign of weakness.

"She is not in danger," Erik stated. It should have been a question. The letter he'd received had stated that she was in desperate need of assistance, but it was obvious now that he had been deceived.

Raoul replied anyway, "No."

And from this close Erik could easily see the grin he was trying to suppress. "If you continue to abuse her name as such, I will no longer believe you." It was a weak threat; it was hardly a threat at all, just a statement of fact, but ever since he'd been compelled to keep his patron alive, there was little that he could threaten and be believed otherwise. Erik only spoke truths; he did not speak empty promises.

However, he would have promised to kill him right there since the younger man began to laugh. Luckily, Raoul had enough sense of self-preservation to take several steps away from him. "No need to lie."

"You believe me fool enough to come at such an obvious deception again?" Erik challenged. He stayed his ground. If he moved any closer to the vicomte, he would certainly hurt him.

"No." Raoul was still grinning at him. Erik had seen this particular expression usually when Raoul spoke to Christine, when they were in yet another joke that he was not privy to or did not believe to be humorous. "Christine is your weakness. Despite the fact you know she should be with Madame Giry at this moment, that sinister question 'what if' makes you come regardless of the deception."

Erik was silenced by his observation. "Well?" He prompted after a long silence where Raoul's grin only widened. "What is it you need now?"

Raoul smiled outright then. "Nothing." He looked as innocently at Erik as he could manage – it would have been more convincing if he hadn't already given his ruse away. "It was not I who sent the letter." He turned to leave, but Erik's next sentence stopped him.

"I will find your weakness." Scowling, Erik clenched his hands into fists. "And I will exploit it."

Raoul's answering smile told him to try.

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Fic Review<span>: It would help a lot more if I understood the lyrics. DX I did a quick read of the lyrics before I started trying to write it and this is what happened. I don't think it fits the lyrics all too well, but I did use concepts from it.

Btw, shortly after this conversation, Erik kidnaps Philippe and uses him a ransom to get Raoul to do whatever the hell he wants. XD


	15. Track 15

Title: Feelings Never Told  
><span>#<span>: Track 15. The Fear You Won't Fall  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
>Summary<span>: Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: slash   
>Word Count<span>: 652  
><span>Rating<span>: K+

A/N: Remember, there is a fanmix attached to this; go to my profile to download.  
><span>Story note<span>: Too many times. DX

o.o.o.o

Joshua Radin - The Fear You Won't Fall

_It hasn't felt like this before  
>It hasn't felt like home before you<br>And I know it's easy to say but it's harder to feel  
>this way. <em>

"I love her. Damn you," Erik shouted, his voice carrying through his home, echoing even out over the still waters. When the final echo had diminished, Erik was breathing hard, as though he had been fighting Raoul rather than just confessing his feelings.

Raoul had flinched at the sound. However, his voice was entirely calm when he said, "I do, too." His admission of love had come much easier; it had taken much less time and effort than it had taken to Erik to admit as much. "She is easy to love," he continued. "She is beautiful, kind, gentle, talented."

Erik wanted to interrupt him, but he couldn't seem to catch his breath. He'd never quite spoken the words aloud, much less to anyone besides himself, but the blond seemed not to notice his difficulty.

"The way she smiles stills one's heart. Her compassion moves your spirit, and the easiest thing of all, she loves you back. She gives her love so freely, so generously. I think she could love anyone given the opportunity."

Finally finding his voice, Erik croaked out, "Then leave me to my love."

Raoul persisted, "But she cannot love you as you want her to and you know it." He was not looking at Erik when he said the words, eyes cast somewhere towards the ground between them.

Annoyed at his damnable composure, Erik closed the distance between them and grabbed the front of his shirt, lifting Raoul to his toes. The blond was still outwardly unaffected; in fact, the only thing he did was raise his eyes to meet Erik's and place a hand on top of his to steady himself.

"If you would release your hold on her, she would love me more," Erik spat out in his anger, seeing spittle land on the blond's cheek.

"I love her enough to know I would not make her happy." Raoul gripped his hand tighter, pushing it down when Erik's knuckles pressed to his throat. "I would not give her what she wants."

"We are in agreement then. You cannot." Erik did not feel the triumph he'd wanted to feel at this moment of his rival's defeat. "Only I can give her that."

"Easy," Raoul muttered.

"What?" Erik pushed him away.

As he stumbled backwards, he finally showed real emotion by raising his voice, "You want the easier love." The words trembled, and he refused to look up when he finally did steady himself. He wiped his cheek. Erik could only stare at him in confusion and when Raoul finally looked up, he was biting his lower lip, but his eyes were steadfast on his. He dared him with some emotion Erik couldn't quite place but which was so familiar. "You're much harder to love."

"I know," Erik retorted easily, but it felt as though he was responding incorrectly. "But like you said, she will love me. She _does_."

"I do, too." Raoul added quickly, "I think." Shaking his head, he lifted his chin and Erik finally placed the emotion he saw in his eyes. Defiance, determination. Against what, he could hardly imagine when he was giving up. He couldn't understand a word that the boy had said after describing Christine. He was simply rambling. Love was never easy; Christine's love had been kept from him for so long. How could that be easy? And, of course Raoul loved her, too. The vicomte simply wasn't making any sense, but he kept speaking as though Erik should understand.

"I _know _it, but I let Christine go." Raoul backed away from him slowly – reluctantly, as though he were waiting for him to say something.

Erik wondered if Raoul wanted him to thank him for what was clearly Erik's. Erik had loved her longest. It was right that the vicomte would step down.

When he didn't say anything, Raoul nodded once to himself. "I think I could let you go, too."

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Fic Review<span>: Unrequited love? Yeah, only because Erik only hears what he wants to hear. I actually know a lot of people like that. I'm sure Raoul just basically blindsided him, too, but that's beside the point. Erik's a genius. He needs to figure it out. I think the ending's still a little awkward… diction-wise.


	16. Track 16

Title: Feelings Never Told  
><span>#<span>: Track 16. Day Old Hate  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
>Summary<span>: Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: slash, char death  
>Word Count<span>: 246  
><span>Rating<span>: K+

A/N: Remember, there is a fanmix attached to this; go to my profile to download.  
><span>Story note<span>: Yes! It probably helps that this song is about seven minutes long, but w/e! I did it! (Yes, every single sentence in this note requires an exclamation point!)

o.o.o.o

City and Colour - Day Old Hate

_So let's face it, this was never what you wanted  
>But I know it's fun to pretend<br>Now, blank stares and empty threats  
>Are all I have, they're all I have.<em>

Raoul had seen the room with the numerous portraits, dolls, and the mannequin ready for marriage. It had disturbed him how accurate the likeness was of her, how despite the blankness of her look, it had somehow still looked at him expectantly. He'd made a promise to her, his almost wife. To think that standing beside that mannequin had been as close as both of them ever got to seeing her in resplendent white.

So, he visited the ghost every day – he also resolutely avoided that room after learning of its contents. He made the man eat, made him clean himself, made him sleep. He bore the threats and both the verbal and physical assaults. He bore the bruises because they somehow assured him that he was keeping his promise to her.

And, maybe for Erik, maybe for them both, he sang all her favorite songs when the most he could do was stay in the same room as the other man. He would hum them to calm him along with gentle hands when the ghost was too weak to strike out. He would remember her touches, her quiet voice, her calming presence and he found if he tried, she was still there in his voice, in his hands, in his smile. She was there in the compassion that shouldn't have existed for a monster.

It was never what either of them wanted.

But, it was enough for them both. It was all they had left.

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Fic Review<span>: This is hardly slash, but I guess a lot of these ficlets have been turning out to be pre-slash. The slash is just there in my mind. XD


	17. Track 17

Title: Feelings Never Told  
><span>#<span>: Track 17. Ghosts of You  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
>Summary<span>: Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: slash, char death  
>Word Count<span>: 943  
><span>Rating<span>: K+

A/N: Remember, there is a fanmix attached to this; go to my profile to download.  
><span>Story note<span>: Definitely did not even come close to succeeding this time around. Maybe I'm meant to have succeeded only once. However, this story. Damn this story. :( Blame the song.

o.o.o.o

Chantal Kreviazuk - Ghosts of You

_I don't wanna live forever  
>But if we could be together<br>Then I wouldn't mind infinity.  
>I don't wanna live forever<br>Oh, but I can still remember  
>No, I wouldn't mind infinity.<em>

"See," Erik croaked. He blamed it on his own fatigue and focused instead on yanking all of his clothes out of his dressers. "I'm packing!" His shout was loud enough that even he flinched at the sound. He haphazardly tossed everything behind him toward a battered, old leather case. Raoul had called it a family heirloom; _some good luck for our journey_, he'd said with a conspiratorial grin – the grin had once annoyed him, but Erik eventually learned that he was included in all of Raoul's conspiracies. He'd given it to Erik weeks ago, joking that between the two of them, he would need the luck more. In response, Erik had half-joked that Raoul was simply too weak to carry another suitcase.

"I know I haven't packed yet." He slammed drawers shut, uncaring about the noise. Still, he glanced over at Raoul, who'd curled into himself in the center of the bed. "I _am_ faster than you," he said mostly to fill the deafening silence. He knew the blond's eyes were shut even though just a couple of minutes ago, he had berated Erik for not being prepared. Most of the bite had been softened by that familiar grin and the hurt look that he'd been too tired to hide. The blankets bunched around him; his hand was lax on the pillow by his face. His own suitcase was newer and mockingly waited at the foot of the bed. Erik tore his gaze away.

"No need to ignore me," Erik huffed out, stiffly shoving clothes in the case. Raoul had said he would take a nap in the afternoon to prepare for this. It was hours before sunrise and the younger man had always insisted that this particular hour, half past two in the morning, did not exist in the day. Mostly, Erik knew he'd wanted to sleep off some of the illness he'd been feeling the past few weeks, some of the lethargy of overworking himself.

Erik shut the case with more force than was necessary, teeth grinding when he clenched jaw. Raoul always overextended himself. "I'm done." He spared another look towards his vicomte before rushing out to the organ to pick up his compositions. Of course Raoul hadn't been able to rest though because he'd been too busy subtly making sure the opera house, Christine, and his servants would be well taken care of once he left.

"I didn't even need all those weeks," he continued talking, needing to hear something, needing to prove to Raoul that this _was _important to him despite his reluctance.

Erik had been trying to postpone leaving. With everything the vicomte had to lose, it had been the ghost who had been unwilling to leave it all behind. He'd been unwilling to take the chance.

"Ready," he called breathless, arms full of a lifetime's worth of compositions. There was no order to them, pages bent and torn; he'd swept them all up, leaving a trail of loose papers fluttering to the floor behind him. He stopped by the Chagny heirloom and waited for Raoul to look at him, to give him another one of those conspiratorial grins, to forgive him for delaying them.

Raoul, who had been desperate to leave, who had been desperate for fresh air he hadn't been able to find in Paris, remained unimpressed by the speed at which Erik had packed, remained unresponsive. Even the fever – Erik had called it a sign that they should stay – hadn't been a deterrent and now Raoul wouldn't wake up.

Nothing would postpone their departure from Paris. Nothing would postpone their new lives. Erik let his music fall, molting feathers that scattered upon hitting the floor. Walking over it, on it, he approached the bed haltingly.

"I'm ready," he repeated, but it came out as a whisper. He gently planted one knee on the bed to lean closer and Raoul's body limply slid towards him.

"Wake up." Erik steadied him, tried to shift him back to the center of the bed. The hand by Raoul's face fell onto Erik's hand. It was cold.

"No." He grabbed Raoul's shoulders.

"No, I won't let you." He shook him, and Raoul's head simply lolled side to side.

"I said it would only take a moment." Erik screamed, "Wake up!" His voice echoed in his home, but it wasn't loud enough. Raoul wasn't waking. He could scream louder. "Wake up!"

Awkwardly gathering him onto his lap, he turned Raoul's face towards him. He was heavier than normal, limbs not cooperating with him. He managed to bend forward though, leaning his forehead onto Raoul's.

"You are not allowed to do this," he whispered, shaking his head. It felt like his whole body was shaking.

The fever was gone. Erik hunched over, hugging his body closer. But, he was too cold.

"You said you'd wait for me to pack."

His face was relaxed; his whole body was. All traces of the tension, the exhaustion, the pain he hid so poorly, were gone. The illness was gone.

Erik kissed him. "You said you'd wait." It was the first kiss in more than a year that Raoul did not return. Erik kissed him again, longer. He felt too-pliant lips beneath his own, an unfamiliar chill. He squeezed his eyes shut and kissed him harder, tears gathering behind his eyelids as his hands scrambled to press Raoul to him.

But Raoul fell away from him and he unwillingly ended the kiss.

He nuzzled his cheek, which was still smooth, still so familiar. And, with lips pressed against a slack mouth, Erik spoke once more, breathing what life he could back into him.

"I'm ready."

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Fic Review<span>: This freaking song. :,( Um, answers I guess. Raoul's dead throughout this entire chapter; and yes, Erik knows it. He just… he was in denial. This is the 'verse where Raoul has a fatal disease and everyone knows it.


	18. Track 18

Title: Feelings Never Told  
><span>#<span>: Track 18. 9 Crimes  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
>Summary<span>: Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: slash, het, mentions of sexual relations  
>Word Count<span>: 555  
><span>Rating<span>: T

A/N: Remember, there is a fanmix attached to this; go to my profile to download.  
><span>Story note<span>: Hmm, I lost count in this mostly because of the first paragraph. I couldn't find the words.

o.o.o.o

Damien Rice - 9 Crimes

_It's the wrong kind of place  
>to be thinking of you<br>It's the wrong time  
>for somebody new<em>

Raoul gingerly scooted to the edge of the bed, dragging the bedsheet with him. He was forced to sit leaning to one side. Despite months of these encounters, he couldn't help but be tender afterwards. He wasn't even sure if it was supposed to be this way, to feel like this. It didn't hurt, not anymore at least, and though he would deny it, he had begun to count the days and hours before they would meet again. He waited for Erik's chest to be flush against his back, to feel those talented hands and fingers play him. He had hated it at first when the pain had slowly been replaced by pleasure, but eventually, he accepted that if this thing between them was only bodies seeking relief, seeking gratification, then he should be able to feel that without the guilt. There were so many other reasons to feel guilty.

Pulling the sheet tighter around his shoulders to keep the chill off, he looked across the room. The ghost sat before his organ. It was a familiar sight. Erik fully dressed and completely focused on his music, ignoring Raoul's presence. Raoul's clothes scattered around the room, filling in the seemingly vast distance between them, and Raoul himself, Vicomte de Chagny, naked, bruised, and used upon a cold bed.

And, _he_ had supposedly won in their rivalry. He had successfully exchanged his life for Christine's, for the chance to love her unimpeded. He supposed he won. She had gained her freedom without ever truly knowing its cost. He had given her everything she had ever wanted: the stage, a wedding, a family. She was still tutored by her Angel, still held him in the highest regard while her husband, while Raoul saw the monster, the man, the animal.

He and Erik had been as physically close as two individuals could ever be, but they had never felt less for each other. That was only partially true. Raoul had spent weeks disgusted with himself, furious really, when he found that his heart had followed where his body had been led. Erik, on the other hand, had only ignored him, isolated himself so completely that Raoul was certain he did not exist for the masked man anywhere besides his bed.

In that bed, Erik was always so tender and muttered words of affection, praise, encouragement, kind words that Raoul was still unsure he wasn't simply imagining, but he knew those words weren't for him. Maybe even in bed, Raoul did not exist. Maybe Erik's brilliant mind was still focused on his angel.

Raoul stood silently and began to collect his clothes, bedsheet hiding what Erik had already seen numerous times. This little attempt at modesty was meaningless since the ghost never looked his way afterwards. He usually did not bother speaking. The silence that answered him always managed to shame him, but he had to speak, had to say something, "Christine probably already told you…"

The music continued and there was no sign that Erik had even heard his words.

Raoul knew he heard. The ghost couldn't help but hear, but be aware of everything around him. He knew that. He wished he knew if Erik would even care, and he quickly realized that what he wanted _was_ a reaction, any reaction.

"I'm going to be a father."

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Fic Review<span>: This plotbunny is actually from the Alphabet Game (B). Why? Because I already hit the point where I've thought to myself numerous times, "I should've made a shorter fanmix." XD

The fic where Raoul's an adulterer, Christine is oblivious to it all (including her Angel being Erik), and Erik is discontent with everything though he thought he'd gotten it all.


	19. Track 19

Title: Feelings Never Told  
><span>#<span>: Track 19. Haunted  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
>Summary<span>: Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: slash, char death  
>Word Count<span>: 823  
><span>Rating<span>: K+

A/N: Remember, there is a fanmix attached to this; go to my profile to download.  
><span>Story note<span>: Honestly, this run of ficlets isn't doing so well in the happy department. Bear with me. The next song is definitely not sad. I think. I hope. I'm almost sure.

I think I stopped trying to accomplish this challenge of one song ficlets because this one was just on repeat.

o.o.o.o

Poe – Haunted

_I'm haunted_  
><em>By the lives that I have loved<br>And actions I have hated  
>I'm haunted<br>By the promises I've made  
>And others I have broken<em>

Raoul shakily pushed himself out of the wheelchair. The nurse at his side hovered close by; at least, she'd learned from the last time he'd snapped at her and didn't attempt to help him. As though to prove a point, his knees protested against the movement and threatened to buckle beneath him. They would have had it been winter – the cold had never been kind to his joints – but he refused to sit back down or ask for help. He was determined to do this without the chair. In the chair, he would have to be pushed. There was nothing more he wanted than to be alone.

He looked over his shoulder at the nurse, unable to actually turn fully without straining to do so. The nurse took the hint and moved to stand in front of him. She held out in one hand, his cane, and in the other, a bouquet of roses. He took the cane first, grimacing when his hand wouldn't close as tightly as he would've liked, as he tried to. Still, he had gained enough technique in locking his elbow to carry his weight that it didn't matter. He snatched the bouquet away from her next, the stems easily giving way beneath his hand. He knew years had passed, decades really, but it still surprised him every time he tried to move or saw his reflection, how much time had taken from him, his youth, his mobility, his love.

The nurse stayed behind while he stiffly walked towards the Chagny mausoleum. He passed the Daae's; Christine had been laid to rest beside her father years ago and he offered both a silent greeting and prayer for them.

He paused outside of the marble structure he'd purchased, a simple box with two pillars in the front and a single stained-glass window. Philippe had refused to be extravagant for something he wouldn't be able to enjoy himself. Still, the gold of the Chagny family name hung proudly. His sisters were to be buried with their husbands; only his brother was here.

It was cold inside, empty, but the window bathed the austere room in warm oranges and reds from a piecemealed flower in full bloom. There was no main sarcophagus in the center, simply the crypts against the wall and a lone stone angel that guarded the entrance.

On the far wall, Philippe's name was plain to see.

"When I die," he'd said, "I hope you forget everything I've ever done, all the wrongs, even all the rights. Please just remember me as the brother who'd loved you."

He would have hated the dates and epitaph, but at the same time would have found them proper. Raoul shuffled the small distance to place a hand on the engraved words. There was no body behind them. They hadn't found a body, but Raoul had buried a casket full of memories, tears; it had been full enough.

He briefly thought of Christine's funeral. All of Paris had been present for Mademoiselle Daae's funeral. The procession for the opera's grandest singer had taken an entire day. Raoul had been in the fringes but with so many clamouring to get as close to her as possible since they had been unable to while she had been alive, no one noticed one lone vicomte who grieved in the shadows, with the shadows.

He let the flowers trail against the smooth, blank slates waiting to be filled with the wife he never had and the children he'd never borne. He made a full circuit of the mausoleum and stopped by the angel. It stood taller than him. Its wings were partially folded behind it and the hands were held out in welcoming. Its robes, meticulously pleated, fell naturally to the floor. He found a crevice the sculptor would have been incensed to find in the center of the angel's chest.

Hidden beneath the stone, chipped away and painstakingly replaced was the only thing left of his love, the only piece he'd been allowed to keep. That body, too, lay somewhere beneath the opera house, interred in the one place Erik had ever called his domain. Only a porcelain mask, shattered in anguish but preserved in a music box, remained here.

Raoul's legs gave out, the cane slipping by the sudden motion. He just barely managed to grab onto the angel's hand for support and slow his descent to the ground without hurting himself. He let himself fall the rest of the way to sit on the floor. He let the cold seep into his bones and cool himself from the strain of this visit.

He felt safer here, surrounded by the people who'd loved him most. He hunched forward and placed the bouquet of flowers at the angel's feet. The ache and sorrow slowly bled from him as his breathing slowed.

This place was more cenotaph than mausoleum; only Raoul's body had ever found rest here.

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Fic Review<span>: Cenotaph – a monument honoring a dead person who is buried elsewhere.

No, Raoul doesn't necessarily die in the end. I need to just stop killing people. Or the songs simply need to stop talking about ghosts. DX  
>This one's an odd universe. Philippe's death is mysterious. Erik apparently never leaves the opera house and neither does Christine, but Erik and Raoul are still an item. Odd indeed.<p> 


	20. Track 20

Title: Feelings Never Told  
><span>#<span>: Track 20. In My Veins  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
>Summary<span>: Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: slash, char death  
>Word Count<span>: 1,418  
><span>Rating<span>: K+

A/N: Remember, there is a fanmix attached to this; go to my profile to download.  
><span>Story note<span>: I don't even care that it took forever to write this one (wow, it could be a oneshot). It was so worth it because I love this plotbunny – it's my second favorite ficlet. And at least it's not as angsty as the other ficlets of this day. Three cheers for that. No one dies? Maybe.

o.o.o.o

Andrew Belle - In My Veins

_Oh, you're in my veins, and I cannot get you out  
>Oh, you're all I taste, at night inside of my mouth<br>Oh, you run away, 'cause I'm not what you found _

_The mob was getting closer and Erik was running out of options. He cursed himself for being so careless and cursed their luck in managing to shoot him in the side with something as antiquated as an arrow – an actual arrow, one he'd been forced to leave in his side though he'd broken off the ends so they would not protrude so annoyingly. He should have known that following Christine would have led to this. The hunters had taken to watching all the young women of the opera house. But it had been Christine and Erik could hardly be faulted for moments of weakness. _

Erik paced within his home five cellars beneath the opera house. He had healed well enough; that wound couldn't compare to other injuries he'd received at the hands of other mobs. He simply needed to leave this prison he called a home. The hunger was driving him mad. He refused to be confined by these walls and hidden beneath the ground. The only problem was that there was still daylight and he would not be able to move as freely as he wished to. He could not be careless a second time and surely, a day in hiding had not been enough time to calm the mob. They would be milling about.

He blamed that blond stranger completely for his current state, blamed him for the itch beneath his skin, the primal craving that he'd been able to control since he'd been conscious of it that was now clouding his mind.

_The carriage had the misfortune of passing just in time for Erik to see a chance at freedom. Jumping onto the moving transport, he jammed the doors to the covered carriage then threw the coachmen off into the nearest alley. He would keep the occupant because he'd already begun to feel lightheaded from the blood loss. He knew he would need assistance later on to gather his strength. _

He'd almost left the building several times already, telling himself that he could and would be more cautious this time. He could drape his heaviest cloak over his shoulders, cover every inch of himself, and wear a wide-brimmed hat to protect his face.

Even he knew that would be too conspicuous, but despite knowing that, he was willing to risk it. That stranger, he needed to find him. His hands were beginning to shake. Even Christine did not affect him like this. If he didn't know better, he would have guessed that the blond had done something to him.

_He passed out some time during the escape because the next moment he was aware of, the carriage had overturned and splintered open. He was buried beneath one wall of the carriage and the horses were missing. A young man hovered over him, blood slowly oozing from a head wound. His blond hair was matted, with what Erik could clearly see was blood even in the twilight._

"_Monsieur, please do not struggle." With great effort, the stranger pulled him from beneath the carriage debris. Erik knew he had lost a lot of blood when even he struggled to help him, but when he was finally free of the carriage wall, the man began to check his limbs. "How do you feel?" _

Erik began his trek up to the opera house, hoping to distract himself. There was some excitement due to the change of managers. He was less than impressed, knowing that meant he would have to train a new set of managers. Still, it was an opportunity to lose himself in the commotion, to take his mind off of blond strangers and carriage accidents. It helped that the occupants of the opera house were always amusing to watch.

In fact, he realized that he had yet to check on Christine since the fiasco of the previous night. She had slipped his mind just as easily as she had slipped his grasp. She should be rehearsing with the others for the new opera they hoped to open soon. He was certain to have enough to distract himself.

_Erik scoffed at his victim inquiring after his health, especially when it was obvious that he had not come out unscathed from the accident either. He was clutching his arm and his body was littered with abrasions. Erik could smell the blood on him. _

_His continued silence concerned him. "Your bones seem intact. You have wood stuck in your side and…" he grimaced and motioned vaguely at him, "your face has been scraped up a good deal. We must find you a doctor." _

_Then, the young man did the next unintelligent thing – the first being to stay to help a monster – he turned his head to look for help. And Erik, weak as he was, only did what was natural then. He saved his own life: subdued the young man and bit him. _

He lingered in the catwalks, easily staying out of sight. The others would not see him unless he wanted to be seen and even then with so few people, it was a simple trick to make them forget. Beneath him was barely controlled chaos and for a moment, he could forget the hunger. It was too soon to be this hungry again.

He noted that Madame Giry would need more time before the ballet was up to his standards. La Carlotta would have to be changed as well, especially since his protégé was well-prepared for this role in Hannibal. He grinned to himself. At least he could fix that problem right this moment. He moved to the fly system for the scenery, searching for the backdrop he wanted, but when he was about to loosen the correct rope, he froze. He sniffed the air and felt his incisors elongating, his mouth watering. His blood sang. Muscles tensing, he was drawn to the edge of the catwalk.

The new patron was being led to the center of the stage. He wore a leather coat and was all geniality when he spoke even though his arm was in a sling. His forehead was bandaged and a white scarf was draped over his neck despite the summer day.

More importantly though, he looked more energetic for a man from whom Erik had just drunk.

_The man stiffened as Erik sank his teeth into that tempting, pale neck. They all tensed, but Erik held onto him, unnatural strength ensuring his meal would not escape. He let the blood pool in his mouth, the sweetest blood he'd ever tasted in the centuries that he'd been cursed. It was young, pure, and it was making him heady. He sucked harder. _

_The young man soon sagged in his arms with a groan. Hearing it, Erik pulled away, surprised not only that he'd managed to stop himself from draining him dry, but also that the blond in his arms had somehow managed to reach him while he'd been feeding. That was an impossibility. _

_Eyelids fluttered before blue eyes looked up at him. He lifted a hand towards Erik's face but was forced to let it fall. "Your face" – he shivered – "it is better."_

_Erik barely heard the words. He stared at his throat instead, watched the way it moved when he swallowed, gazed at the two puncture wounds that were calling him to drink from him once again. He'd drunk more than enough to escape from death's door even if the wood in his body prevented the wound in his side to heal. He didn't need to drink again._

"_Good." The stranger smiled and sighed._

_Making his decision, Erik leaned down and began to lick the wounds. The blond shivered again, letting out what was decidedly more a moan of pleasure than one of pain. The wounds healed quickly. Their existence would be a distant memory by morning, though the skin would be sensitive for several days; still, Erik continued to lick his neck, tasting more of the man instead of the blood now, a flavor that was just as intoxicating. _

_Shouts from a distance snapped Erik out of his inexplicable daze, reminding him that he was still in danger. He stopped his ministrations on the young man's neck and received a low whine for it. Erik grinned and nuzzled his neck once more. He didn't have enough strength to bring him along though he considered it. Instead, he inhaled his scent, memorized it. _

_And as he left the wreckage and the young man behind, he promised himself that he would find him once more._

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Fic Review<span>: Haha! Vampire!Erik's already dead, so he counts as a char death in the warning. :P But really, vampire!Erik and ?Raoul has to exist in this world.

And it seems like Raoul found Erik instead.


	21. Track 21

Title: Feelings Never Told  
><span>#<span>: Track 21. Small Words  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
>Summary<span>: Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: slash  
>Word Count<span>: 685  
><span>Rating<span>: K+

A/N: Happy Three Kings Day, aka. The Twelfth Day of Christmas. This was the deadline I gave myself and now I'm thinking you probably expect all 24 tracks even though the last two were bonus tracks. And now my life sucks because I have to do two extra ficlets – well, it doesn't suck. It's just going to take up more of my night.  
><span>Story note<span>: Like seven times. It's a short song in my defense.

o.o.o.o

Gavin Creel - Small Words

_All the wrong things that were hurting you  
>Were all the wrong things that I seem to do<br>All that you needed, I couldn't show  
>And although you pleaded, I didn't know it.<em>

"Again?" Christine asked when she entered her dressing room and found Raoul lounging on her divan.

Raoul looked up from the book he'd been reading. "Again?" he parroted.

She sighed, knowing he really didn't know what she was referring to. "The only time you visit me nowadays is when Erik's said something else particularly insensitive."

Shaking his head vehemently, Raoul put down his book and sat up. "That's not true."

"I do not mind." She sat beside him in the space he'd freed. "Well, I would mind a lot less if you were more happy than sad."

Raoul was going to deny her accusation, but wilted under the look she gave him. He settled for saying, "I just need space at times."

She nodded. Leaning against him, she asked suddenly, "Is it worth it?"

The mirror slid open then, the mechanism sounding louder in the silence of Raoul's consideration. Erik emerged from the passageway, eyes fixed on Raoul although it was somehow still obvious that he was glaring at Christine.

"Leave us."

Raoul stood up.

Erik pointed at him to sit back down. "You know I was speaking to Mademoiselle Daae."

"Raoul?" She tugged him back down.

"Thank you, Christine." He smiled at her. "But I will be fine."

She frowned and tossed her hair over her shoulder before standing up to leave. She muttered under her breath, "This is my dressing room."

Once the door shut behind her, Erik locked the door and remained facing away from Raoul for a moment. He eventually spoke, "Well?"

"What now?" Raoul asked, tired of playing these guessing games. He wished people would simply say what they meant instead of assuming he could figure it out only with one word questions. "What did I do wrong now?"

"Is it worth it?"

Raoul slouched slightly. "Oh."

And it was silent. Erik made sure to school his features before turning to face him. After taking a deep breath, he muttered, "I did not mean to call you stupid."

Scoffing, Raoul shrugged. "You said, 'You imbecile. What were you thinking? How is that…?'"

Erik interrupted him before he could finish the rest of that particular tirade. "I do not think you are as stupid as the others," he offered helpfully.

The younger man laughed to himself. "Yes. I know. I wonder why you bother with one so beneath your intelligence, with one so beneath your standards for everything." Raoul stood up then. "If you do not wish me to be around you, then simply say so."

"Your presence is hardly noticeable in my home," Erik struggled to make Raoul understand, "and your voice no longer grates on my nerves."

"Erik," Raoul gestured for him to stop. "You don't need to…"

"You take up surprisingly little space and you can be accommodating at times."

"This constant barrage of criticism," Raoul asked, "is it some passive-aggressive way of undermining my self-confidence?"

"Your self-confidence is not under question. In fact, you are not so much a fop as the rumours have stated. At least, there's a good reason for it, and even though you have money you do not make unsound investments all the time. There is no need not to have confidence in yourself." Erik frowned after saying the words. It always sounded much better in his mind than aloud.

"Or are you really trying to push me away?"

"No." Erik wanted to shut him up just for a moment while he put his thoughts in order. "I am not. I'm telling you. I prefer your company to being alone."

"Oh, that _is _nice," Raoul retorted sarcastically.

"And, you do not complain as much as I expected nor are you as weak as you seem."

"Really, Erik? I understand. I am a horrible person."

"No. You don't understand."

Raoul went for the door. He would break it down if necessary. He didn't need to be insulted in this manner.

"I love you!" Erik shouted. It came out as though 'love' were an expletive. "I'm trying to say," he said more calmly. "I love you. I've _been_ saying it, but you're a little slow."

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Fic Review<span>: Mental image of Raoul just lounging in Christine's dressing room amuses me for some reason. XD And you know Erik was there just watching him. Also, Erik's backhanded compliments are head!canon for me.

There should be more meat in the dialogue, like actions and the like, but I figured seven songs were already pushing it. I had to remind myself that the point of this was to trust one's instincts. Still, it just only brought to light how much I change from first drafts.


	22. Track 22

Title: Feelings Never Told  
><span>#<span>: Track 22. To Be Alone With You  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
>Summary<span>: Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: slash, het  
>Word Count<span>: 540  
><span>Rating<span>: K+

A/N: If you don't know there's a fanmix by this point, I'm a little disappointed with you.  
><span>Story note<span>: I stopped counting after ten times. :( I really am running out of plotbunnies because this is getting entirely too difficult.

o.o.o.o

Sufjan Stevens - To Be Alone With You

_You gave your body to the lonely  
>They took your clothes<br>You gave up a wife and a family  
>You gave your goals<br>To be alone with me_

Erik rowed across the lake, intent on finding Christine. He was certain that she would be able to explain the note he had just found, or he could find out if she had received a similar note. The handwriting was unmistakably Raoul's. He hadn't actually seen the blond in several days if he thought about it, and it should have been odd since the viscount was always insinuating himself in their lives. It had seemed normal at the time though. Everything seemed normal given enough time.

The truce had always been a little odd, been a little more than a stop in the violence between them. Raoul had stepped down. He'd forfeited his love because Christine had been devastated by the choice laid before her. He had taken the decision from her hands.

Erik only just now realized that Raoul did that quite often. He made decisions for others even though the choice was offered all the same. He gave up so Christine didn't have to. He loved her so much that he banked his own desires so that she could pursue her own.

And, Erik had her. It was nothing like he'd expected but everything he had wanted, a chance to be normal, a chance to be with her. In the beginning, they had fought a lot and Raoul was always there, not to gloat but simply be present and they would get into arguments over things Erik no longer remembered. It was clear now that the younger man had intentionally done so, had already decided for him, to become the outlet that Christine could never be.

Raoul had planned masquerades whenever Christine was tired of spending every night inside in the darkness and away from her friends. He decided when it was time for them to spend time away from the opera house, forced them to accompany him on vacations to his beach cottage and then suddenly disappeared on them under the guise of other errands. He was always there when Erik simply needed to be away from Christine but not alone; the blond always claimed one excuse or another, usually about the opera house and they had made perfect sense at the time or, perhaps, Erik hadn't cared as long as he had company.

He had filled in the gaps that Christine had been unable to, had given up his life for Christine's and to his surprise, Erik's.

He desperately tried to remember the last time he'd seen Raoul, but could only draw a blank. Raoul was always present – apparently, even when he wasn't. When Erik wasn't with Christine, he had been busy composing. The opera in his mind was consuming him. In fact, most of his time had been spent in front of the organ. He hadn't argued with Christine in months, but then again, he hadn't done anything else either save the voice lessons. The passion had petered out, and Erik found he wasn't angry. He wasn't surprised or disappointed. The only decision he had now was whether he wanted to fight for her any longer or find someone else who filled his life so seamlessly, who knew his needs before even he did.

_Good-bye._

But Raoul had already taken yet another decision from him.

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Fic Review<span>: I've got to stop putting Raoul on this pedestal and treating him like a martyr. Really. I'm going to write him as an arrogant, selfish jerk one of these times just to even out my head!canon of him. He needs to be more excessively selfish and bratty. No one's this kind.


	23. Track 23

Title: Feelings Never Told  
><span>#<span>: Track 23. Almost Lover  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
>Summary<span>: Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration.  
><span>Warning(s)<span>: slash, het  
>Word Count<span>: 138  
><span>Rating<span>: K+

A/N: Just one more to go. Thank goodness.  
><span>Story note<span>: Success! So, two ficlets out of twenty-four (because I'm almost certain I'm not going to finish the last one in time, but maybe I'll be wrong) that I managed to write in only one playing of the song. I consider that a win in my book. It's also short, but I win.

o.o.o.o

Michael Saunders - Almost Lover (A Fine Frenzy cover)

_Goodbye, my almost lover  
>Goodbye, my hopeless dream<br>I'm trying not to think about you  
>Can't you just let me be?<em>

Erik had arrived at Christine's room too early, but as he saw her and Raoul kissing, he wondered if he hadn't arrived just in time. He looked away, torn between entering the room and tearing them apart or waiting until later to exact his revenge.

He wasn't certain whose betrayal stung worse: the girl, the woman who had his voice, held his dreams, and stole his heart, the woman he'd loved for years or the man who'd used kindness and vulnerability to weasel his way into Erik's life, who had proved himself again and again to be better than all the rest of society, better than them all. He'd proven himself to be trusted as a friend or companion, if not more, but maybe that had been the lie. Only Erik had ever thought there might be more.

o.o.o.o

End ficlet

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Fic Review<span>: Of course since slash is always the endgame for me, Erik doesn't see Raoul and Christine stop kissing and Raoul say to her, "This isn't fair to him, to any of us." XD


	24. Track 24

Title: Feelings Never Told  
><span>#<span>: Track 24. You Da One  
><span>Author<span>: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
><span>Pairing(s)<span>: Erik/Raoul  
>Summary: Series of ficlets with songs used as inspiration.<br>Warning(s): slash  
>Word Count: 358<br>Rating: K+

A/N: Last Chapter! And a happy Three Kings' Day to you all. Now, what did I give you for the twelve days of Christmas? 24 chapters and 24 songs. Angst, drama, a bit of smut, and fluff.  
><span>Story note<span>: Failed in this one too, but I don't even care anymore. I think it was around six times.

o.o.o.o

Rihanna - You Da One

_You the one that I dream about all day  
>You the one that I think about always<br>You are the one so I make sure I behave  
>My love is your love, your love is my love<em>

Erik stared at the blond who rode ahead of him. He had yelled at him several times already to keep his hands on the reins of his horse, but Raoul insisted on spreading his arms out wide while riding at high speeds. The only reason Erik had agreed to the morning rides was to ensure that Raoul would not fall off the horse and break his pretty little neck in the process.

And that was the perfectly respectable reason as to why he was could not seem to tear his eyes away from him right now. Raoul wasn't even properly dressed to go riding and he insisted that his horse be similarly bare, save for the bit and reins. The one aspect Erik did so graciously give Raoul leeway for was his apparel, lounge pants and a white-cotton shirt that always seemed to come unbuttoned when he rode. The horse, he had stopped arguing about once Raoul stopped inviting him to ride along.

Raoul had tossed his head back as he laughed at something. The sound was carried away by the wind. As Erik spurred his horse on to catch up, he guessed the laughter was for the pure exhilaration of it all: the wind whipping through him, the steady gallop of a strong, healthy horse, the way his pulse rose and the grin that tempted to show even for him.

He was surprised when Raoul slowed down and waited for him to catch up. When he was at an easy trot, Erik sidled up beside him.

"Is something wrong?"

His blond hair was mussed and he had lost his hair tie some time back, but he was smiling widely. He reached across the small distance to grab Erik's shirt and pull him close.

"Watch out," Erik groused but before he could chastise him further, Raoul kissed him soundly, slowly to savour each moment of their lips pressed together.

He pulled away with a self-satisfied smile. Letting him go, he said, "Good morning" before taking off again, laughing as his shirt fell open.

Erik let himself grin and shook his head at his antics. "Good morning," he muttered.

o.o.o.o

End series of ficlet… THE END

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
><span>Fic Review<span>: Damn fluff. I think this may have been one of the only pure fluff chapters in this series of ficlets. XD Why complicate things further? No one dies, no one angsts, everyone's happy.


End file.
